


Armageddon Aftermath

by IolantheAlias



Category: Smallville, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-16
Packaged: 2018-02-20 05:47:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2417210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IolantheAlias/pseuds/IolantheAlias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Ep 718 "Apocalypse".  Clark has been dumped into an alt-universe where baby Clark never made it off Krypton. But Zod did & conquered the Earth. The few human survivors have little love for Kryptonians & Clark is their prisoner.  What can he do in this depopulated, barren world?  How can he help the survivors when they hate and mistrust him?  Sequel to Tobiwolf13's (aka Legendarytobes) "Armageddon".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 01

**Author's Note:**

> _Author’s note: This fanfic is actually a sequel to another fanfic. It’s based on Tobiwolf13’s amazing story, “Armageddon”, which can be found on her website, Effulgent and Smoking Cool dot com._
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> _Many thanks to Tobi who graciously gave permission to use her fic as background. Now go ahead and read her story. I’ll wait._
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> _Link: http://effulgentandsmokingcool.svtometropolis.com/viewstory.php?sid=115_
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> _**********************_
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> _Good story, wasn’t it? It’s based on the Season Seven, Episode Eighteen episode “Apocalypse”. As you no doubt recall, that episode starts with Brainiac taking Kara to the Krypton of the past, on a mission to destroy baby Kal-El before the infant ever leaves Krypton._
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> _Clark, in a fit of despondency, thinks it might be better if he did never leave Krypton. Chloe tries to make him see reason, but what does the trick is Jor-El putting Clark into a simulation (?) of an alternate world where Clark doesn’t exist. In Tobiwolf’s story, Clark really is in this alternate world, and things haven’t gone well at all._
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> _Zod and his disciples have taken over Earth, and performed genocide on the human race. Lex, Chloe, Lois, Martha, and others are part of the sad remnant of humanity who are fighting a losing battle against the Kryptonian invaders. They don’t much like Clark, this new Kryptonian who has just appeared, but Clark and the Resistance are able to work together to take down Zod et al._
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> _In Tobiwolf’s story, Clark is “killed” in the climactic battle, which sends him back to his own universe and back to show canon. But what if Clark made it through the battle, and had to stay on the alternate world? What would he do next? What would everyone else do next?_
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> _I couldn’t stop thinking about that, and that’s why I wrote this story. Once again, Very Special Thanks to Tobiwolf13 who had the idea, and who graciously gave permission to play in her universe._

  Chapter 01 

Clark straightened, fighting against the nausea induced by the kryptonite handcuffs. He stared at the members of the panel sitting on the dais in front of him - the panel that would decide his fate. His stomach churned. He’d never been very articulate, never a good arguer. He’d always left that up to others – his forte was to act - in secret in possible, overtly if not. He was a doer, not a talker. And now his lack of practice might seal his doom. 

From left to right, their gaze met his. Not one of them had sympathy; the best was curiosity. Clark swallowed at the sight of the familiar faces, now distorted out of recognition. He’d known them all in his own world. Now he was in some dystopian parallel world, where old friends and acquaintances had become new enemies. 

First, from the leftward-most position. Andrea Rojas stared back at him, her overt hostility apparent. Clark had last seen her at the Daily Planet in his own world, putting on her glasses to simulate the identity of a mild-mannered reporter. Little did the Metropolis Police Department and her Planet colleagues know that she was the vigilante dubbed “The Angel of Vengeance”. A kryptonite-infused heart transplant had given her preternatural strength and agility. 

The meteor power had allowed Rojas to survive when Zod and his henchmen invaded this Earth. Unfortunately, she seemed incapable of letting bygones be bygones, still seemed obsessed with vengeance. On Clark’s world, Andrea had killed a man in revenge for her mother’s death. He did not doubt that this version of The Angel of Vengeance had killed more than once. And Clark also knew that Rojas would have no qualms about killing him. 

Next, there was a muscular man. Clark knew him as Arthur Curry. In Clark’s own world, Arthur (he preferred to be called “A.C.”) also had powers. But to the best of Clark’s knowledge, in this case the powers were not due to meteor rock exposure. A.C. needed water all the time – to drink, if not to submerge himself in. Clark had seen the man gain strength when drenched, and knew that A.C. could swim nearly as fast as himself. A.C. also seemed to have the ability to throw some sort of energy bolts through the water. If it ever came to a showdown, Clark would do his very best to make sure that the fight happened on dry land – he wondered if he could win against A.C. in the other’s element. A.C. looked back at him, expression neutral. 

Moving rightward, Clark came to the third person on the panel that would decide his fate. His heart missed a beat as he looked at Chloe Sullivan, and she looked back at him with no hostility, just curiosity. His best friend at home, her fate in this new world was a cruel joke. Zod and Brainiac had burned her face and neck horribly on the right side; shiny scar tissue distorted her smile. She styled her hair in an attempt to cover the burned scalp, but the effort only called attention to her disfigurement. After a while, though, Clark had stopped seeing that – Chloe’s personality shone through as the active, curious, strong reporter he’d known for years. It almost choked him to see the large diamond ring on her left hand – twisting the knife. In this world Chloe was engaged to Lex Luthor. 

And Lex was the fourth person behind the table. Outwardly the same as the Lex that Clark had come to know and distrust, this Lex coolly returned Clark’s gaze with a weighing one of his own. Seeing Clark stare at him, Lex deliberately took Chloe’s hand in his own and squeezed it before letting it go. 

Clark quickly turned to the next person in line, the one whose presence had wounded him the most. Martha Clark, formerly Martha Clark Kent. His mother – but not in this world. In this world, Kal-El, the refugee baby from the destroyed planet Krypton, had never been found by the Kents, never been raised as an Earth human. Martha and her husband Jonathan had divorced, their marriage unable to withstand childlessness, and Martha had moved back to Metropolis. One of the few remaining survivors of humanity who did not have a meteor power or was not a metahuman, her craftiness and intelligence had allowed her to survive the Kryptonian-led genocide that had destroyed 99% of Earth’s human population. Her expression was hostile. She’d made a point of telling Clark that she was not his mother, that she hated him, and that he should stop looking at her “that way”. When she had said those words, it was as if a knife had been twisted in his heart. 

Clark sighed as he focused on the person to Martha’s left, the woman who returned his look with steadfast courage and some distaste. Lois Lane. In Clark’s world, she was a reporter wannabe with a yen for eighties hair bands, a veteran of drinking marathons, and a penchant for getting into trouble. In this world, a hardened soldier with a large knife scar on one cheek, and a tactical adviser for the human resistance. The resistance, that, against all odds, and with the help of Clark Kent and his cousin Kara, had succeeded in bringing down the reign of Zod and Brainiac. 

Clark felt a tiny glimmer of hope. Lois had looked at him much more malevolently before he had gone with her and the other fighters up to the Fortress of Solitude. In this world, the Fortress didn’t belong to Clark; no, it was his own world’s Kara’s Fortress. Brainiac had kidnapped Kara from Clark’s own world, taken her back in time, and, after killing the baby Kal-El, had forced Kara to create the Fortress. Then Brainiac had murdered Kara. Clark had found this parallel world’s Kara and had woken her from stasis. The two, along with the humans, had thrown all their dice on a desperate mission to bring down Zod, Zod’s concubine Aethyr, and Brainiac. And their mission had succeeded. Lois had actually slapped Clark on the back in camaraderie before Clark had been stabbed by Brainiac and had fallen unconscious. Her gaze now seemed much more welcoming than it had before. 

No such luck with the final member of the panel. Clark wondered if there was some sort of cosmic karma that kept reuniting him with old “friends”. Actually, old wives. Alicia Baker sat at the far right of the table. In Clark’s own world, as in this one, Alicia was a meteor-rock mutant – she could teleport, and she could take people along with her. He’d exposed his secret to her when they were trapped together in a falling elevator, and he’d punched through the wall and grabbed the driveshaft to slow the fall. She in turn, had covered for him by teleporting them both out of the elevator, so that no one would connect the hole in the elevator wall with Clark Kent or Alicia Baker. 

But Alicia had another side. Back “home”, she’d learned Clark’s secret, drugged him with red kryptonite, and had convinced him to run off to Las Vegas together to get married. They’d been disrobing for their honeymoon night when he threw off his jacket with the red K in the pocket. Then Clark had come to his senses. Clark knew that his Alicia had been manipulative. There was little reason to believe that this new version wouldn’t be the same. 

This Alicia hated Clark, hated Kryptonians - that was obvious. She’d been against letting him live, ever since the resistance had captured him. His working with them to overthrow Zod had not changed her views. Seeing his gaze meet hers, she frowned, and pulled a small box out of her pocket. Opening it, she set a glowing piece of kryptonite on the table in front of her. Clark instinctively stepped backward, out of range, as he felt the sickening weakness touch him. His guard tensed, but relaxed again when he saw that Clark made no other move. 

The final person in the room was the videographer. He fussed with his camera, set it on a tripod, and nodded to the panel members. Then he exited. Clark wondered who in this group felt the need to record the proceedings. Probably Lex or Martha, he thought wearily. They knew the importance of history. 

The room was sunless and institutional. Gray paint warred with tired beige twelve-inch tile squares. The unshaded fluorescent lights gave off an annoying hum. 

Lex Luthor banged a gavel. “This meeting of the Metropolis Council is now in session,” he intoned. 

“A little more formal than usual, bro?” A.C. asked. 

Lex shrugged. “We’ll be making some big decisions at this meeting. Let’s do it by the book.” Heads nodded as Lex named the members present, for the record. 

“The only item of business on tonight’s agenda….” Lex began. He didn’t have to finish. Everyone there knew what was going on. But Lex completed his sentence, no doubt also for the record. “….the disposition of Kal-El of Krypton.” 

Clark straightened. “My name is Clark Kent,” he said firmly. Time to start making his case. He didn’t like this talk about _disposition_. That had an uncomfortably final sound to it. 

“Do you deny you are Kryptonian?” Martha said, and the venom in her voice pained Clark. “Do you deny your name is Kal-El?” Rhetorical questions. Everyone in the room knew that too. 

“I do not deny those things,” Clark said steadily. “But the court….is this a court?”

“It will serve as one,” Martha said grimly. 

“But I would like to bring it to the court’s attention that I was raised on Earth since the age of two. That my parents, Jonathan and Martha Kent – “ he emphasized the latter, “ – named me Clark after my mother’s maiden name. And that I think of myself as Clark Kent.” 

Staring at the panel members and seeing curiosity on Chloe’s and Lex’s faces. Neutrality on A.C. and Lois. Hostility on Martha, Rojas, and Baker. 

_Well, at least that gives me an idea of the way things are leaning._

“None the less,” Martha persisted, “you are Kryptonian? A member of the race who invaded the Earth? Who destroyed the world’s military forces in eight hours? Who used its alien Fortress to change the Earth’s climate so that the mean temperature is now four degrees Celsius? One of the race responsible for the murder of over six billion human beings?” Clark saw Lois’ and A.C.’s neutrality fade into hostility as Martha reiterated the crimes that Zod had committed after he had escaped from the Phantom Zone. 

On Clark’s own Earth, Brainiac had engineered the release of Zod from the Phantom Zone. But Clark, along with Chloe and Martha, had defeated Brainiac and returned Zod to his imprisonment. Clark’s world never knew how close it had come to kneeling before Zod. 

But in this bleak alternate world, Clark hadn’t been there – Brainiac had gone back in time and prevented Clark, as a baby, from ever leaving Krypton and coming to Earth. Here, there had been no one to stop Zod’s reign of terror. Clark should have been there, and he wasn’t. And this alternate Earth had suffered. 

Time for a little defense. “Yes, I am Kryptonian. A Kryptonian who helped you overthrow Zod. A Kryptonian who made sure that the Earth’s climate will come back to normal. A Kryptonian who is your ally.” He made sure to lift his chin on that last. 

Snorts came from Martha, Rojas, and Baker. The other two women had been silent so far, letting Martha speak for them. 

Lex cleared his throat, and gained everyone’s attention. “So, Clark Kal-El Kent, what are we to do with you?” His tone intimated, _You’d better save yourself. Because we’re not going to save you._

“I’d like to propose a deal,” Clark blurted out. He’d practiced his opening in his cell ten times, and here he was, no finesse, no flash. 

“Go on,” Lex said. 

“You set me free,” Clark began. He lifted his cuffed hands slightly. The kryptonite glowed malevolently. 

“No way,” Baker and Rojas said simultaneously. Martha remained silent. A.C.’s eyes widened but he said nothing. Lois shook her head, but slowly. Lex and Chloe looked interested. 

“Why should we?” Lex asked. “We know what your kind can do.” A gesture indicated their Spartan, underground bunker. Despite Kara’s adjustment to the Fortress (she promised return of Earth’s climate to normal), the room was chilly enough that all the humans wore parkas. Clark had not been given any additional clothing. Despite losing his powers to kryptonite exposure, he was expected to make do with his red jacket. 

“I promise I won’t hurt anyone,” Clark said, trying to make them understand by his tone that he meant this. He’d never wanted to hurt anyone, with his powers, or in any way. It was ironic that so many had been hurt by his secret. At least he’d saved lives using his powers. And in this world, everyone knew he was an alien. No use trying to keep that a secret anymore. “I will never use my powers to hurt. And I will never kill.” 

Skeptical looks on some of the panel members’ faces. 

“I’ll help you,” Clark said semi-desperately. This wasn’t going well at all. “You’ve seen what Kryptonian powers can do. Imagine having them on your side.” 

Chloe, Lex, A.C., and Lois looked pensive. Martha’s face twisted. Baker and Rojas maintained stony expressions. 

“This world needs a lot of help,” Clark said more quietly. “Zod and Brainiac are gone, but there’s a lot to fix. This is my world too. I want to help fix it. I owe you.” 

“Go on.” Chloe said this. 

“First, I don’t hurt anyone. I’ll swear on a stack of Bibles, whatever. That’s set in stone.” Clark hoped repeating it would help his chances. “Second, you set me free.” 

Another round of skeptical looks.

“Third, I use my powers to help. Freely, willingly, to the best of my ability.”

“And the fourth?” Martha’s voice held a tiny bit of interest now. 

“I get paid.”

A snort from A.C. “Paid, bro? Come on.” The expressions of the other panel members mimicked his incredulity. 

“Hey, I know it’s unrealistic right now,” Clark said. He was getting their interest, from sheer outrageousness if nothing else. “You’re on a wartime economy. But the bad guys are gone, the climate’s going to be coming back to normal, and what do you do then? You’ve got to start some sort of medium of exchange. People are going to be doing jobs and they’ll need to be paid somehow. Money makes the world go round.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Rojas muttered. 

“And, if I’m using my abilities full time to help, it’s a job.” Clark met the skeptical gazes of the seven. “I’ll settle for food, clothing, and shelter right now.”

“The food could be a little dicey,” Lex said musingly. “The children get priority. Given your….ability to absorb solar energy, we might ask you to defer your portion.”

“I’m sure that could be worked out,” Clark said, the thin, crying children he’d seen a fresh and unwelcome memory. He would certainly do what he could for them. 

“Anything else in this deal of yours?” Martha asked skeptically. 

“One last thing,” Clark said. “I’m a citizen. I get citizenship. If I do this, if we have a bargain, you treat me like everyone else, legally speaking. I have all the rights and responsibilities of any other U.S. citizen.” 

“The United States is defunct,” Lois said challengingly. 

“Aren’t you all going to get it set up again?” Clark challenged her back. “Zod’s been taken down. There’s nothing to stop you.” He paced slightly, stopping as his guard neared him. “Now that you don’t need to be a resistance any longer, what are you going to do about law and order? Is martial law all done?” 

Surprised looks on the faces of Baker, Rojas, and Lois. They’d fought so long that thoughts of a time without war hadn’t occurred. Chloe, Lex, Martha, and A.C. obviously had considered things, made contingency plans. 

“Are you going to re-ratify the Constitution, and have it be the supreme law of the land?” Clark probed. He’d done some thinking about this, in his lonely prison. 

Glances between Chloe, Lex, and Martha. 

“If you do, I want it to apply to me. I want the Thirteenth Amendment to apply. Slavery or involuntary servitude is prohibited.”

“Except as punishment for a crime,” Martha retorted. 

“I’ve committed no crime.” Clark made sure to meet her eyes as he said that. 

“Being Kryptonian is a crime,” Alicia Baker snapped. 

“Ah.” Clark inhaled. “But what about the Fifteenth Amendment? ‘The right of citizens of the United States shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any State on account of race.”

Lex had a tiny smile on his lips. “You forgot to add ‘color, or previous condition of servitude’ to that.” 

“Um.” Clark decided to press on and ignore Lex’s growing amusement. “And the Fourteenth Amendment would cover me too. ‘No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States; nor shall any State deprive any person of life, liberty, or property, without due process of law; nor deny to any person within its jurisdiction the equal protection of the laws.’” Clark was glad for that tenth-grade civics class and the insistence of Mrs. Daugherty that her students know the Bill of Rights. Clark had taken it further, and had memorized, not only all twenty-seven amendments, but the complete text of the Constitution. 

“You’re not a citizen,” Baker said. 

“I want to be,” Clark said. “That’s what this whole deal is about.” He tried to keep his voice from trembling. “I want the constitutional protections – “ he raised his cuffed hands to show the panel the glowing Kryptonite. “ – against cruel and unusual punishment.”

“Eighth Amendment,” Chloe muttered. 

_She must have had Mrs. Daugherty too._ “I know a lot of bad things have happened to this world,” he said. “And some of it is my fault. I want to make amends. I will help, if you let me go.” Clark straightened, met the eyes of each panel member in turn. 

Panel members looking away from him, starting to shoot glances at each other. 

“Let’s be honest with each other,” Clark said. There was a curious freedom in basically having nothing left to lose. “You can’t keep me around here forever. With these cuffs on, I’m just another mouth to feed.”

“Or not,” Baker muttered. 

“Exactly.” Clark steeled himself for the harsh truth. “It’s time to fish or cut bait, and you all know it. You can take the chance, and trust me. Or you can kill me.”

The expressions on Baker’s and Rojas’s faces showed which option they’d pick. Martha’s face remained impassive. 

“If you kill me, you’d be breaking a semi-promise that Chloe gave me.” Clark bowed toward the doppelganger of his best friend. “She said, right before we went in to take down Zod, that ‘we don’t backstab our allies.’”

Lois’s face twisted. 

“You can kill me. You have the power. But, as you start your new world, you’ll know that you built it on a foundation of murder and betrayal. Is that what you want, underlying all your efforts?” Clark let that statement stand there, ringing in the now-silent room. 

He looked at the figures facing him. Rojas remained bitter – no hope there. A.C. looked troubled. Chloe had a hint of a smile, and Clark dared hope that she was enough like his Chloe to support him. Lex and Martha’s faces gave no hint of their underlying thoughts. Lois’s expression matched A.C,’s - that of someone forced to face an uncomfortable truth. And Baker was an opposing bookend to Rojas – the two women obviously hated him and would like to see him dead. 

He’d done what he could. Time to get out. “I’m going to walk around,” he said. “Let me know when you decide.” 

Lex was impassive, Martha indignant, Lois surprised, and Chloe amused as Clark turned his back to them. Carefully avoiding his soldier guard, he strode briskly to the door. He carefully opened the door, stepped out, and just as carefully, closed it behind him. 

Clark hadn’t gotten a few steps away from the door when it slammed open and his minder burst out. 

“Hey! Where do you think you’re going?” The fit young man – Clark suspected he was an ex-Marine – hoisted his gun, then thought better of it. As he advanced on Clark, the kryptonite in his belt pack began glowing with more intensity. 

Clark felt his knees tremble and the nausea begin. “Nowhere, right now,” he managed to choke out. He collapsed on the floor, managing to work his way nearer to the door as he fell. “Please…”

“You stay right there,” his guard ordered, standing over him. 

“Please….farther away,” Clark managed to choke out as the deadly radiation robbed him of the strength to sit. He found himself falling over, lying on the dirty floor.

The soldier glared at him suspiciously, then, seeing Clark’s incapacity, took a few steps away. Clark sighed at the lessening of the pain. 

“If you try anything, I’ll put this right on your heart,” the soldier said evenly. His taut posture and general air of alertness marked him as one who, if not a professional, had lived through combat. 

“I won’t give you any trouble,” Clark said wearily. 

The soldier eyed him cautiously and moved a small distance away. Clark remained splayed on the floor for what seemed like a long time before he slowly worked himself back into a sitting position. He strained his ears. The kryptonite cuffs had robbed him of most of his powers, but extra-sensitive hearing remained. 

“He’s nuts!” Clark heard Alicia Baker saying. “You can’t trust a Kryptonian.” 

“I think we can trust him,” Chloe said, her voice muffled through the wall. “He can’t lie worth a darn. I think he meant what he said.”

“But what if he changes his mind?” his mother – no, in this reality she was Martha Clark, the divorced, childless ex-wife of Jonathan Kent. “We wouldn’t be able to stop him.”

“I’m almost as strong as a Kryptonian,” Clark heard Rojas chime in, “but I don’t have the speed. Not to mention the heat vision. That’s a danger on its own. You should know that, Chloe.”

Clark flushed as he saw in his mind’s eye the Chloe of this world, horribly burned by Brainiac. 

“True,” Chloe allowed. “But he did say he was raised here on Earth, as a human. And, you have to admit, he doesn’t seem to have the arrogance that the other Kryptonians did.”

“A good thing his cousin died in the attack,” Baker growled. “We couldn’t even pretend to trust her.”

“She would have been put down right away,” Lex agreed, “but the subject today is Kal-El.” Clark could just see Lex giving that supercilious smile to Martha. “Or, as he calls himself, Clark Kent.” 

“Kal-El,” Clark heard the alternate version of his mother say, in icy tones. “I don’t think we should trust him. You can’t trust a Kryptonian.”

Lois interjected, sounding strangely hesitant. It was very unlike the Lois that Clark knew – that Lois was always positive, even when she didn’t have a clue what she was talking about. “He did fight with us.” 

Clark was glad to see that this version of Lois appeared to be as loyal as the one in his own world. Lois might be annoying, pigheaded, stubborn, and belligerent, but if you were on her side then she’d fight for you. 

“So did a lot of other people who didn’t make it home,” Rojas said. “How many people did we lose in the assault?”

“Over fifty,” Lex said coolly. 

“Those losses weren’t all due to the Kryptonians,” Chloe argued. “Most of that was fighting off other humans.”

“Humans who turned collaborator,” A. C. observed. 

“That’s right,” Chloe said firmly. “You can’t blame everything on the Kryptonians.”

“Yes, I can,” Baker said stubbornly. “They’re why we’re sitting here in an underground base, all of us wounded, on a planet that’s an iceball.” 

“Supposedly it’s going to warm up,” Chloe said. 

“If it’s going to, it hasn’t yet,” said Martha skeptically. 

“It took a while to cool down, too!” Chloe said hotly. 

“Councillors.” Lex, as ever, remained cool and urbane despite the fraying tempers around him. “Let’s get back to the point. We are discussing what to do with Kal-El.” 

A.C. chipped in for the first time. “I think we should let him go.”

Noises of protest, primarily from Baker, Rojas, and Martha. 

“You have to admit that he fought with us,” A.C. continued. “Like he said he would. And I agree with Chloe – the dude’s a shit liar. His story’s crazy, but I believe it. Or at least I believe he believes it.” He chuckled, then turned serious. “But the man made a point.”

“What?” Lois seemed to be the foil for A.C.

“He’s right. Do we want to have a murder at the bottom of it all? Bro,” and here Clark almost saw A.C. turning to face Lex, “I spend a lot of time in the ocean.” The big man’s tone was serious. “And sometimes when the storms come, good luck is all you have. Killing the dude after we promised not to would be major bad karma.” 

“Yes!” Lois said, happier. It was as if A.C. had put into words something she’d been feeling but couldn’t stay. 

More noises of protest. 

Lex’s voice again rose over the babble. “I’d like to hear your positions. One by one, please.” 

Rojas spoke first, and loudly. “We should kill him. Our world is owed vengeance.”

“Point taken,” Lex said. “A.C.?”

“I already said it, bro. Let him go. We need the good karma.”

“Lois?”

“I think we should live up to what we said. We promised that we wouldn’t backstab our allies. If we go back on that now, who would believe us in the future?”

“That promise wasn’t widely known, Lois,” Lex said, again in that cool voice. “Most of the people in this camp would be only to happy to see Kal-El executed.” 

“But _we_ would know,” Lois persisted. 

“Martha?”

A long silence. “We can’t trust him,” Clark heard his erstwhile mother say finally. “I admit it would be nice to have the Kryptonian powers on our side for a change. But we’ve learned to our sorrow that they’ll betray us. It’s too dangerous to let him go free.”

Clark imagined he could see heads nodding. 

“Baker?” Lex asked.

“Kill him,” Alicia said. “I agree with Andrea. We need revenge for how they’ve raped our world. Promises mean nothing.” 

“His promises or ours?” Clark heard Chloe ask sharply. “I submit to you that our word does mean something. He promised to help us and he did. Now we have to do what we promised.”

“We didn’t promise to let him pillage. We didn’t promise to let him finish off the conquering. He knows where we are now. He knows we’re the biggest cell of the Resistance left.” Clark heard his mother’s taut words. “If we let him go, what chance do we have? We lost so many, spent so much, on the assault….”

“Which we won. Zod and his henchmen are defeated,” Chloe said firmly. “Earth is back in our grasp.” She took a deep breath. “I’m with A.C. I believe his story. I believe we can trust him.” A small laugh. “Heck, if Martha Clark here really did raise him, he’d have to be a good guy.” 

A chuckle from Lex. Clark listened for Martha but there was nothing. 

Chloe finished. “We should agree to his deal. Put him to work using his powers to fix what’s broken. Let him go free.” 

More impassioned argument. 

Lex slapped his hand down on the table. “I have the deciding vote here, it seems.” He waited till he had everyone’s attention. “You’ve all made some good points.” That was Lex, lulling everyone in until he swooped in for the kill, Clark thought. 

“If it’s revenge you’re looking for, I’ll point out that we did kill the Gang of Three,” Lex said. “And don’t forget, there are plenty of collaborators that need dealing with.”

That had an ominous sound, Clark thought. 

“I agree with Chloe that this Kal-El can’t lie worth a damn,” Lex said. “She’s an excellent judge of that. And he has been polite and compliant all the way through.”

“Because we’ve been holding kryptonite on him,” Rojas muttered. Clark managed to hear it and he felt a little thrill. Was he becoming accustomed to the low-grade kryptonite exposure? Thinking of it, he didn’t feel quite as weak. 

“Nonetheless, this is an unparalleled opportunity. An alien, raised as a human – if you believe him, which, oddly enough, I do. Willing to work with us. We can study him, find out what he’s capable of doing.” 

“We know what Kryptonians are capable of doing,” Martha said darkly. “Lex, it’s too dangerous to trust him.”

A pause. “But if we had assurances?” Lex said. 

“Hey!” The voice rang painfully on Clark’s extended hearing. He flinched. “Get up!” 

It was his erstwhile guard, apparently tired of standing around in a hallway guarding a collapsed, handcuffed prisoner. His face indicated he wasn’t going to take any postponements.

“OK, OK,” Clark said. “Just don’t get too close to me with that rock.” It really sucked, having basically everyone on Earth (everyone left, anyway) know his secret, and know that meteor rock incapacitated him. If he ever got back to his own world (a dream looking progressively more remote) he had to give serious consideration to developing a strategy to make sure his secret didn’t get out. 

The guard fumbled with the kryptonite, and Clark suddenly felt a relief from the constant pain. He turned to see that the guard had set the kryptonite in some sort of case – it must have been lead-lined. The guard approached him, and this time, Clark didn’t collapse. The guard grabbed his arm and helped him get up.

“Back to your cell now.” The guard’s voice was emotionless. “This way.” 

As they marched back to his cell, Clark mused that he at least knew where everyone stood. For: A.C., Lois, and Chloe. On the fence: Lex. And against – his “mother”, his ex-“wife” Alicia Baker, and the woman who had been the Angel of Vengeance in his old world, Andrea Rojas. Also against – every other Earthling on this base that knew of him. 

The one thing that nagged the most at Clark was his knowledge of Lex. Lex always had a Plan B. In fact, he usually had Plans C through H. Clark was actually less afraid of being summarily executed – Lex would percolate some scheme through his twisty brain and figure out some way that Clark would end up working for him – than of what Lex had said. What did Lex mean by _assurances?_


	2. Chapter 02

_Three months later_

“You can’t be serious!” I hissed out, reflexively keeping my voice low. Why I bothered I didn’t know, because the cause of my disbelief was right in the room with us. 

“Martha, I know you’re a little leery – “

“A little!”

Lex continued. “But we really need you. And this is the only way you can do the job.”

“With him?”

Lex sighed. “Let me go through it once again. We need you, Martha. You’re our best diplomat. And the situation in Denver – it’s critical.” 

I nodded. Lex didn’t have to say that Denver was the last holdout. I’d spent the last few months with Bruce, going up and down the Eastern seaboard, getting everyone in line. Oliver, and Lois, out west, had taken care of the Pacific states. Lex here in Metropolis was handling the heartland. But the Mountain Time Zone? Not on board with the rebuilding. 

“And, contrary to what you may think, from zipping around in Mr. Wayne’s private plane all the time, gasoline is not all that plentiful.” Lex frowned. “In fact, supplies are critically low. We’ve cannibalized all we can from abandoned automobiles. But the little we have left, we have to save for the tractors and the farming tools, for planting when spring comes.”

I nodded my head reluctantly. The Earth had been in a thirty-month winter, and we’d been living off preserved food. Collaborators, and we, too, had managed to keep indoor gardens, and we thought we’d been able to find enough seed. But if we wanted to live through next winter we had to get a crop in. And there weren’t enough people left in the country to go back to hand farming. We had to use more efficient methods.

“A.C. and Wally and their teams have managed to get an oil rig in the Gulf back on line,” Lex explained, in that careful voice. Amusement crept in as he said, “I guess all those days of enviro-protesting helped A.C. learn how those big rigs work.” 

I shrugged. I was not amused. 

“And they assure me they can get a refinery working too,” Lex said dubiously. “I’m not really sure about that.” He put on his hopeful face. “On the other hand, we have sent them Tom Lee, our best engineer. He’s pulled off miracles for us before.”

“Enough with the refinery talk. You’re delaying.”

Lex didn’t deny it. He pointed to the other man in the room, the man who had stood up when I entered, and had remained standing, in awkward silence, throughout our conversation. “You’re going with him.” 

_Him._ A Kryptonian. One of the race who had raped our world, whose genocidal amusements had led to the death of 99% of the Earth’s human population, as well as untold ecological catastrophe from meddling with the climate. 

_Him._ Kal-El. An alien who looked like a man, an alien who said he was against what Zod and his cronies had done. An alien who had fought with us to overthrow Zod, I allowed grudgingly. We wouldn’t have been able to celebrate our victory without Kal-El’s help. 

_Him._ Six foot three inches tall. Two hundred and twenty-five pounds. Invulnerable, super-strong, super-fast, could hear conversations a mile away, could shoot heat and fire from his eyes, got his power from our yellow sun. Powers no human had, powers no human could match, powers no human could fight if he decided to turn against us. An alien who’d pledged to be on our side, to use his abilities to help us fix our world. But the pledge made under duress. 

_Him._ The alien, who in a cruel parody of everything I loved, called himself Clark Kent. The man who, every time he looked at me, stared at me with that expression, the one I hated. The expression that said, “You’re my mother.” Except I wasn’t. 

“No way,” I protested. 

Inside I knew I was going to do it. When Lex got like this he was a steamroller, a juggernaut. Or maybe he was a twisty snake. Somehow, you ended up doing what he wanted, asking yourself, _What just happened?_

And somehow, I knew, it was fate. I’d met Kryptonians before and hoped that it would never happen again. Destiny loved to toy with me, however, because their paths and mine kept crossing. 

“Martha, Clark has promised – “

Lex broke off at my glare.

_“Kal-El_ has promised to put his abilities at your disposal, and to obey your orders.”

“And if I order him to take a flying leap off a cliff?” I asked sourly. 

Kal-El shuffled his feet and looked down at the floor.

“You know it wouldn’t hurt him anyway,” Lex said briskly. “And you two will want to present a united front. Helps the negotiating position, you know.” 

I glared at him. 

Lex abandoned the teasing tone. “I know what I’m asking, Martha. But we need you. I have to be here near Metropolis, you know that. Lois is out with Oliver. I know you just got back from the East Coast. But we need you in Denver by the day after tomorrow. The only way we could do it without Cl – without Kal-El, would be to fly you and we already went through why we can’t. No gas. So speeding you is the only way.” 

I sighed. Lex and the resistance were the only reason I’d survived the past three years. How else would a middle-aged lawyer have lived through the great upheaval? I owed him. He was right, too, that I was the best diplomat. Twenty-five years of law had seen to that. 

“Besides, Martha, you know the situation is risky. Bandits on the roads, breakdown of order….Frank in Denver is practically a warlord. It’s not safe.” Lex gave that little smile again. “Kal-El will be your bodyguard.” 

I just stared at him. Inside I had to admit that a Kryptonian would be a damn good bodyguard. I knew from personal experience how hard they were to kill. 

*************************

 

“Can we talk?” he said, sprinting a little to catch up with me in the hallway, deliberately oblivious to my snubbing him. 

I stopped and sighed. I knew I’d have to talk to him eventually. I just hated to. 

“Kal-El, we – “

“Please call me Clark,” he interrupted in a soft voice. 

No way. My name, used by the alien? 

“ _I’m_ Clark,” I pointed out. Yep, that was me. Martha Clark, once a high-priced lawyer and daughter to the eminent Clarks of Metropolis. Once, also, Martha Clark Kent, wife to Jonathan Kent. No more. 

“As I was saying, Kal-El, we’ve got a job to do.” I almost missed the fleeting pain that crossed his face. “You’re my transportation, nothing more.”

“And bodyguard,” he murmured.

“And bodyguard,” I added reluctantly. Then, to get things right out in the open, I added, “I’m not asking for your opinion.”

He stopped and straightened, stared down at me. God, he was big. Even if he were human he could overpower me. I had a bad feeling that I wasn’t intimidating him at all, that he was actually amused. 

“Nevertheless, Mrs. Kent, I’ll offer it when I think you need it.” 

The bastard. On the name thing, it was tit for tat. I only hoped that calling him “Kal-El” hurt him as much as him saying “Mrs. Kent” hurt me. 

We stared at each other and I wasn’t the first to look away. I felt a little twinge of triumph when he stomped away down the hallway. 

I waited a few minutes to let him get farther away. Then I relaxed, although collapsing might be a more accurate term. The diamond edge of pretend-confidence and outrage that had sustained me all though our meeting with Lex was broken now. I couldn’t be strong any more. I’d been away for two months, and all I wanted to do was fall into my own bed. And then Lex had blindsided me with this. 

I picked up my briefcase. Strange, how such a civilized artifact had survived civilization’s breakup. I clung to it all the more dearly for that, along with my heels and my business “power” suit. Totally worthless for everyday life now, but a symbol that someday we would rise again, that there would be enough food and sunshine to have totally impractical things like lawyers and courtrooms and business suits. 

But not today. I made my way slowly to my room and collapsed into bed. 

 

*****************

We’d made plans for a dawn departure the next morning, to maximize the daylight. What little daylight there was, these days. The alarm woke me at what seemed an insanely early hour, and I trudged down to the showers. I wasn’t looking forward to that. I wanted – I needed – to be clean, but the showers were tepid at best and Arctic-cold at worst. 

Then, miracle of miracles, I turned on the water, ready to jump aside. Something akin to a purr came out of my mouth when I realized the water was hot. Surprising. Lex had made a point of how fuel was limited. Before I’d left to go with Bruce, there had been dire talk about energy reserves and the lack thereof. 

Maybe, with the climate repairing itself (I refused to think about that Kryptonian girl - Kara? - who’d died as she stood at that alien console in the crystalline Fortress, rearranging and reprogramming, telling us that we’d have our Sun once again) they’d gotten the solar panels to be more efficient? Whatever. I had to go out again on a mission today. I was damn well going to luxuriate in a hot shower, now that there was one. 

It took me only a short time to arrange my pack. I’d been on the road for two months, and I had it down to a science. Tent, ground cover, inflatable air mattress, sleeping bag, toiletries including that next-to-last bar of scented soap, three days of concentrated rations. Collapsible, stacking cookware. Water bottle and water purifier. Change of clothing. And more. Everything was light and easily carried, only the best hiking and camping gear “liberated” from outdoor stores whose clientele, like 99% of the Earth’s population, would never shop again. 

I shrugged into my jeans and flannel shirt, vest, and liner. Not what I would consider remotely appropriate for diplomacy in the past, but standards had changed there as well. Even though the climate was slowly returning to normal, it wasn’t normal yet. The most important thing for a human was still warmth. And, despite the fact that it was May, in Kansas, it still felt like January in Northern Canada. 

I laced up my boots, picked up my pack and coat. I wouldn’t put on the outerwear until we got going. Here, underground, the temperature was decent. 

I stayed for a minute before I stepped out of my room, assembling my persona. The mental preparation was as important as the physical. Who was I? I was Martha Clark, hotshot lawyer. Martha Clark, the Resistance strategist. Martha Clark, who helped bring down alien conquerors. Martha Clark, whom you messed with at your peril. I opened the door and strode out of the room. Ready to go. 

Lex was waiting in his office. Kal-El was there too. 

“Good morning, Lex,” I said. I thought about it and gave a brief nod to Kal-El. I couldn’t totally ignore him, he was my mule. 

“Good morning, Martha,” Lex replied. Kal-El nodded back. He had that look again. Every time he saw me there was a flash of….fondness? Love? Then it would shut down as he realized who I was, and what he was. I hated it. 

“A final briefing. We’ve contacted Denver, and they’re expecting you sometime this afternoon.”

“If you still have communications with them, why do you need me to go?”

Lex frowned. “I’m not sure that everything is right.” He steepled his fingers. “We did go over this last night, remember?” 

Actually, I did remember some, now that he was talking about it. I’d blanked out much of the briefing, being still outraged at having to go with Kal-El. 

“We were in contact with Michael Carter, and we’d come to some agreements. He was going to be here for the Constitutional Convention later this year.” 

“And?”

“We haven’t heard from Michael in a month. We’ve only spoken with his lieutenant, Hank Hall. Hank may have a different agenda.” He leaned forward. “One of the reasons I want you there, Martha, is to find out what happened to Michael. They’ll only tell us that Michael is sick. They won’t say what he’s sick with or when – or if- he’s expected to get better. Frankly, Martha, your mission is as much to gather information as it is to negotiate.” 

The pieces snapped into place. I should have realized this last night. My only excuse is that I was tired, heartsick, and outraged, all at the same time. 

“Hence your choice of my assistant and bodyguard?” I said lightly. 

Lex looked disappointed. I’d failed him by actually having to point it out. “I’m sure that you will admit that Cl – that Kal-El’s abilities will be helpful in the information-gathering part of your mission.” 

I just bet they would. I gave a small shudder as I was reminded that I’d have absolutely no privacy for the next few days. “Out of sight” meant nothing when your companion could see through solid rock. 

“We won’t be able to communicate with you on the road. Communications are intermittent, and we’re lucky to have that. Get the info, do the job, and come back safe,” Lex said intently. He stood up. “Are you ready to go?” 

Hardly the way the President had run things, back in the days when there was a country. The old President had had flunkies and minions and staffers, loads of people to send on jobs and do his bidding. Lex, basically the de-facto President now, just had me. Had us. We’d have to do. 

I could do it. I was Martha Clark. Martha Clark, ace diplomat. Martha Clark, intelligence operative. 

And now I was Martha Clark, nervous, walking to the base entrance with Lex and with him. I carried my pack, not wanting to let it out of my sight. I caught sight of his pack – twice as big as mine. 

People passed by in the halls. There were a lot fewer than there had been two months ago. Some we’d lost in the final battle. Others, I knew, had been sent out on various jobs, everyone working as hard as they could to get civilization running again. 

“Clark!” The voice caught my attention, and automatically I looked to see the little girl running toward us. Who was she? I fumbled for her name. 

She ran right past me. “Clark,” she called again. Kal-El knelt down and she hugged him. “Are you going away again?”

Horrified, I took a deep breath. Where were that child’s parents? Didn’t they know that Kal-El was Kryptonian? 

As if on cue, a man came puffing up. I recognized him as Charlie Greene, whose name was oddly appropriate for his job – he ran our underground gardens. His vegetables had been all that stood between us and scurvy for the past two years. 

“Clark, good to see you,” he said. He actually talked to Kal-El. I couldn’t believe it. “I could tell you were back, the showers were hot today!” His face fell at the sight of our packs. “Darn! Are you off on another mission?”

Kal-El shrugged, careful not to dislodge the little girl who hugged him. I shivered. Didn’t she know she was flirting with danger? 

“I go where they send me, you know that, Charlie.” He stood up. “If I find anything good, I’ll bring it back for you and Mary.” 

“OK.” Charlie’s eyes turned to me and he smiled. “Martha! Good to see you back!”

I made some appropriate response, my world still upside down. 

“Martha, you’re going too?” Charlie was a master of the obvious. He smiled. “You’re lucky to be going with Clark. Hot water every day….no heavy lifting….”

The Kryptonian was more dangerous than I’d thought. He’d wormed his way into people’s confidence. I shuddered. Didn’t anyone have any sense? Lex was on good terms with him too….But Lex could be counted on to keep his head. 

And now I had to work with him, the alien. My heart beat faster at the idea. Our mission would be starting any minute now. I thought about throwing down my pack, saying I couldn’t go….Like that would get me anywhere. No. I had my pride. I’d said I’d go on this mission. I’d given my promise. Even if I did have to be in contact with the alien, face his mocking gaze, try and shield myself from his vision, restrain myself from…..I fingered the meteor rock in my pocket. It was in a lead-lined bag. A bag that was easy-open. I knew if the green meteorite was not behind lead, that the alien would feel it, and he would take it away from me. Or, considering the way he’d wormed himself into Lex’s confidence, he’d have Lex or someone else take it away from me, if he couldn’t himself. 

I wouldn’t be the first to use the kryptonite. But I was ready to respond, when the alien made his move. Of course, that was assuming that I could move fast enough – that I had some warning. Bitter experience had taught me that, if the Kryptonian suspected my weapon while it was sheathed, he could remove it faster than I could blink. 

“Martha?” Charlie asked me again. Oh yes. He’d spoken to me. Kal-El set the little girl down and Mary ran back to her father. 

I mumbled something appropriate to Charlie. Mary hung on his leg, shy with me as she hadn’t been with Kal-El. That hurt. 

“Good luck!” Charlie said, waving at us as he gathered up his daughter and they went down the tunnels. I glared at Kal-El. He said nothing. Lex said nothing. We just continued walking. I just kept on thinking. What other plans had Kal-El made? How could I stop him? 

We arrived at the exit door, and the three of us stood awkwardly at the exit. I wanted to delay opening the door to the cold outside. I knew what it was like out there. As bleak as our underground lair was, at least we had food and heat (such as it was) and shelter. Not like the bleak wasteland that awaited us outside. 

Lex took my hand. “I am grateful, Martha. I know I’m overworking you.” His tired eyes made me think he was overworking himself. “But you know, the traditional reward for a job well done….”

“…is another job,” I filled in the punch line. “I’ll do my best.”

Lex turned to him. “And, Clark – “

Lex ignored my death glare.

“Clark, please protect Martha. Get her home safely. Gathering information would be a bonus.”

He nodded. Lex shook his hand firmly. How could he do that? 

“You know where you’re going?” Lex addressed this to Kal-El. 

“I’ve got a pretty good idea,” he said. “I’ve got some old road maps, and if we stay on the major highways, we should be OK.” 

“All right, then,” Lex said. “Godspeed.” He turned, and not looking back, strode away. 

Awkward silence. 

“Well, if you’re ready to go….?” His voice almost stuttered. 

I looked around at the deserted tunnel. Suddenly it came to me. I was alone again with one of them. No one was there to hear me if I screamed. No one would come to my help. No one could come to my help. And, oh God, he was advancing on me…..


	3. Chapter 03

My heart pounded. Automatically I flinched back. My nostrils widened. 

He stopped. I stood a long moment, staring, until I finally realized that he had stopped. 

He met my eyes. His deep voice broke the silence. “I swear to you. You are safe with me.” 

Something in that tone made it possible for my heart to slow, for me to take a deep breath. 

He took off his pack, swung it to the floor. He made no move to approach me. Instead, he sat down in a corner, long legs incongruous near the short stubby pack. I stared at him, eyes wide. 

“You know, it comes to me that we’re off on this mission together, and we really need to get to know each other a little better first.” He gave me a hopeful smile. 

I said nothing. I stood, tense, my heart racing. 

“Or not,” he muttered. 

Another silence. 

“Would you like to take off your pack for a minute?” he said in an easy tone. 

I ran my tongue over my lips and decided I could do that. If I needed to make any moves (like that would help, anyway) I’d need to have more freedom to maneuver. I remained standing, still shaken, avoiding his eyes. 

There was another long silence. 

“You’re probably concerned about your things,” he said tentatively. “When I went with Chloe, we had to practice so that our packs did OK.” 

What did he mean by that? I thought. I choked out, “Chloe?”

“Right after, um, that meeting, you probably remember – “

I couldn’t remember anything right now. _Except things that you’d rather forget,_ my inner voice said. 

“ – we all went on missions. You went to the East Coast, and Lois to the West, and A.C. to the Gulf, and Chloe and I went to the Midwest – Chicago, Detroit, Pittsburgh, you know.”

Some of what he was saying filtered through. I did remember everyone going off on their jobs. Baker and Rojas had stayed here in Metropolis with Lex.

It was probably a good idea sending Chloe off with him. It was obvious that he had feelings for her. He’d said that the Chloe in his world was his best friend. Maybe he wouldn’t hurt Chloe, because he liked the parallel her. 

And, if he tried anything, Chloe had shown that she could kill a Kryptonian. She’d done it once already, hadn’t she? Turned her healing power the other way, draining the life force out of the enemy? 

But I, I was just a regular human. No meteor power. No metahuman healing ability. My breathing quickened again at the thought. 

“So, um,” he said loudly, “I thought we might practice to find the way that’s most, um, comfortable for you.” He must have caught my wide-eyed gaze, because he quickly added, “And most efficient.” 

Efficient. I could do that. My panic receded a bit, enough to let me know who I was. I was Martha Clark. I wasn’t a victim. I had agreed to do this. God, what had I gotten myself into? But now I was stuck. 

Don’t let him see your fear, I told myself. It was probably already too late. But I could put a good face on it, pretend I wasn’t afraid. Besides, he wasn’t going to attack me here at Metropolis base. No, he’d wait till we were out alone, far from witnesses. Once again I thought of throwing down my pack, walking away. Could I do that now? Would he let me? 

“We’ve got plenty of time,” he said, apparently worried at my lack of response as I stared at him. “I can get you to – uh, it won’t take us long to get there.” He tried a smile on me. “There’ll probably even be time to make stops. If you want to stop, that is. I mean, you really don’t need to, but maybe you’d want to. It’s only one state away, it’s just a straight shot once we get to I-70, so it really won’t take all that long…” he trailed off. 

I swallowed. “Wha-what did you have in mind?” I said slowly. He was still just sitting there, not moving. That helped. 

“Well, I do have to carry you,” he said hesitantly. 

I knew that, but I’d been blocking it out. He must have seen the distaste on my face, because he starting talking fast. “Um, I don’t know if you would prefer to be held around the waist and you carry your pack, or if you want me to carry both packs and I hold you in front, or….”

Something he’d said earlier came to mind. At least I could talk now. “What do you mean, practice so that your packs did OK?”

He looked apologetic. “This is something I can show you better than I can tell you.” 

OK, now he had me curious. 

“Do you have a knife?” he asked. 

Of course. I nodded.

He lifted his right arm, put his hand with palm flat to the wall. He nodded toward his hand. “Cut me.” At my look of incredulity, he repeated. “Cut me. Use your knife.”

Well, if he was telling me to…I pulled out my knife and hesitated just a moment. I didn’t like going anywhere within his reach, not without him cuffed. But then I told myself who I was again. I was Martha Clark, and I wasn’t going to be afraid anymore. He stood, not moving, waiting silently for me to make up my mind. 

I marched near him, my heart trembling. I reached out with the knife and made a slicing move across his hand. Nothing. 

“Try harder,” he said. Was he smiling? I shot him a glare. Nope, definitely not smiling. 

I tried to cut him again, putting a little more pressure into it. No bleeding. The amount of force I’d used, in a human, would have opened the hand. 

“OK, you’re invulnerable,” I said, my voice barely shaking. “We knew that from before.”

“To show you the next part, I have to touch you,” he said tentatively. Before I could protest, he said, “Put your hand on top of mine.” He nodded toward his hand still up against the wall, right about my chest level. 

If he’d said to put my hand under his, or if he went to hold mine, there’d be no way I’d do what he said. But my hand would be on top of his, and he was at a bad angle to grab me. Of course, with Kryptonian speed, that didn’t matter. But at least he was making the effort. I could pull away at any time. 

Hesitantly, I laid my hand on top of his. I hadn’t put on my gloves yet, and my cool skin absorbed the warmth of his larger hand. His hand was very warm. I could feel large knuckles under my palm. His fingers were very long. No dirt under his nails, no. I sneaked a quick look at his face – he seemed to be concentrating on something. 

“Now cut yourself,” he said. 

I snatched my hand away. “Wait a minute here,” I said ominously. 

“No, really!” he said, protesting. “Please! Try it again.” He caught my skeptical expression. “You don’t have to really cut yourself. What I mean is that, you know how much pressure it takes to cut you. I’m assuming your knife is sharp?”

Of course it was. I nodded. 

He sighed. “Please, just humor me. I want to show you this.” He still hadn’t moved. He still sat quietly, still holding his hand up on the corner wall. 

Somehow he convinced me. I laid my palm on his hand, his palm on the wall. He got that concentrating look again, and said, “Try cutting.”

Tentatively I reached over with my other hand, gently pressing. No damage. I tried harder. I knew what this knife should do. It wasn’t working. 

“What did you do?” I asked, pulling my hand back and stepping back from him. 

He got a momentary smile. It was so bright, for a moment I almost smiled back. “I didn’t know I could do this till I came to this world,” he started. “I have this, um, the best term would be an aura, of invulnerability.” 

I thought about bullets bouncing off the other Kryptonians. How they’d come unscathed through missile attacks. They had invulnerability, all right. 

“And, if I concentrate, I can extend it to whatever else I’m touching.” He sounded proud. 

“So?”

He looked abashed. “Before I figured it out, if I was running fast when I carried packs, the air friction….there would be some, um, damage.” 

Well, that didn’t make me feel very confident. I was baggage. Did that mean I would get damaged? I was damaged enough already. 

He must have caught sight of my expression, because he started babbling again. “You’re OK! Don’t worry. I always did it for people, I just never knew I was doing it until I learned how to do it consciously – I found that out later!” He stopped to take a breath. “It’s just for stuff like jackets and backpacks, stuff that isn’t close in to me…I have to concentrate to protect that.” 

He sounded very young, all of a sudden. 

I understood now. “So…you want to practice?”

He looked relieved. “Um, yes. If we can get a plan down….” 

We had a job to do. I could do that. “What did you have in mind?”

He looked hesitant. “Well, there’s piggybacking….”

My face showed what I felt of that.

“Of course, that’s pretty difficult with the packs. Or I could hold you by the waist, or do a front carry….”

I sighed. 

 

********************

In the end, what worked out best was the front carry. Kal-El took both my pack and his, carrying one on each shoulder. Then he – there was no better word for it than scooped – he scooped me up, holding me against the front of his chest. 

We had remained strictly professional, at least as much as possible considering that Kal-El was grabbing my legs and there was a whole lot of body contact. There had been one awkward incident. I’d said that I wanted to try the waist carry. 

“OK,” he said. “It’ll probably be easiest if you wear your pack and I wear mine.” 

“OK.” I bent to my pack, shrugged it on. I was unbalanced and I slipped, felt myself falling….

My heart stuttered as Kal-El vanished, and I felt him behind me. He caught me, breaking my fall. I jerked out of his arms, scrambling away, trying to get my back against a wall. I almost tripped over his pack, and skittered away from that. I saw him holding my pack, looking confused. 

“Don’t _do_ that,” I hissed. 

“What?”

“You know.” At his look of incomprehension I elaborated. “Move so fast that I can’t see you.” Understanding spread over his face as I instructed, “And stand where I can see you.” 

Kal-El nodded, the nascent relaxation he’d had while we talked now gone. “All right.” He stood staring at me in a considering way for a minute and I tried to compose myself. Then he looked at my pack, in his hands, and gently set it down. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’ve been with Chloe….” He seemed to think better of finishing that sentence. “I forgot how it is, being around people…” he trailed off there too. 

After a minute I was ready to try again. I kicked his pack exasperatedly. It didn’t move, and not only that, I stubbed my toe. I barely restrained myself from saying a choice word. I went to shake his pack (because I couldn’t shake him.) It didn’t move. 

“What’s in this thing?” I asked. “Rocks?”

Kal-El smiled. “No, canned food.” My incomprehension must have shown, because he launched into an explanation. “You know that Lex asked us to look into, um, homesteads, on the way there. People that have been hiding out for the past few years?” 

“Like us.”

“Yes. But in smaller groups. And they’re not part of the resistance, and not collaborators. They’re just people trying to survive.”

I nodded.

“We could use a lot of those people here. You know. We need every pair of hands to get things up and running again.”

Strange that Kal-El sounded as passionate as Lex about this. 

“Anyway,” Kal-El went on, “when I was, uh, touring the Midwest with Chloe, we found that food was always an acceptable calling card. It would get us in the door, and then Chloe would give her spiel. We’d leave them a flier and a map, and then we’d be on our way, having spread the word of the renaissance in Metropolis.” 

The Metropolis renaissance. A fine name for a ragtag bunch of humans and metahumans, the ones who’d lived through the alien invasion by scurrying like rats avoiding a trap. Kal-El continued, “I’m assuming, that since you did the East Coast, that you have a spiel of your own.” 

“Well….right.” 

“Once we get away from here, I’ll be able to, uh, listen for local groups.” He looked away as he said this. My face twisted at the reminder of his inhuman abilities. 

“All right, then,” I said colorlessly. “You were saying, about my pack?”

He looked relieved as well to be changing the subject. “Um, yes. If you’ll put it on, we can practice.” I noticed that he said ”we” a lot. I wasn’t sure yet if we were a “we”. 

“OK.” I slipped on the pack, automatically adjusting the weight over shoulders and hips. I’d become comfortable with this pack and knew just how it should go. I saw Kal-El fiddling with his own pack. 

He looked up and gave me what he probably thought was an encouraging smile. By now, he’d surely picked up on my reluctance and my nervousness. Oh, call a spade a spade. My outright fear. 

He smiled again and straightened. “I’m going to come over to you and stand next to you.” He had started talking very slowly and carefully. “If we can settle on a comfortable….position, then we can start our run.” 

My mind grasped on anything to delay the moment. “Run? The other Kryptonians flew everywhere.” 

Embarrassment spread across his features. “Uh….I can’t fly yet.” 

“What? It’s what Kryptonians do. They fly. And – “ I cut myself off before I blurted out, And they kill humans. Not the best thing, to irritate the Kryptonian I’d be spending the next few days with. 

Kal-El looked even more embarrassed. “I’ve, uh, floated a few times. But I don’t know how to control it. Or even how to start it.” 

I snorted a few mirthless chuckles. The one Kryptonian on our side – supposedly – and we had to get the defective one. I managed to not say that out loud, either. 

“Are you ready?” Kal-El asked pointedly. No more conversation about his lacks, apparently. Without waiting for my reply, he stepped nearer till he stood next to me. 

“Now I put my arm around your waist – “ he did so. He had to reach down to do it. His arm was actually more around my hips as my pack was tight to my shoulders and waist. 

“You put your arm around mine – “ I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry. Then I forced myself. Once again, I thought, He’s big. My arm came nowhere close to curling around his body. 

“I lift you up – “ It wasn’t very comfortable. Too much pressure. I squirmed, and after one fearful moment, he let me go. He did let me go. I looked up and caught him staring back at me with sad eyes. 

“I think we’d better try the front carry,” I said briskly, trying to mask my trembling voice.


	4. Chapter 04

We stood at the door. All stalling aside, it was really time to go. I put on my hat, scarf, and mittens. My mittens were clipped to a string that ran up the sleeves, so I couldn’t lose them. Just like the Inuit in the Arctic, where a lost mitten might mean a lost hand or a lost life. 

I saw Kal-El bundling up too. Lex must have had him outfitted. When Kal-El had first landed in our world, what had given him away as Kryptonian was that he wore only jeans and a light jacket over his T-shirt. Humans needed extra clothing to survive. I wondered why he bothered. Certainly, he didn’t feel the cold. 

Kal-El pulled an old road map from his coat pocket. “You’re OK with taking the side roads?” he asked me once again.

I frowned. “I know that the interstate appears to be the shortest, but it’s usually clogged with cars. At least it was on the East Coast.” I tactfully didn’t mention why – many of those cars still had bodies in them, from the first big evacuations. Traffic jams, fraying tempers – and then the Kryptonians swooped down and rained death and destruction. It had been the first part of their depopulation campaign. They’d managed to cover most of the world in a very short time. I shuddered to think of what Beijing and London must be like. The main roads were crowded necropolises. Back roads tended to be a little clearer. 

I wondered if anyone had actually told Kal-El the details of the Kryptonian occupation. If I ever got the guts, I’d ask him that. On the other hand, maybe it was a bad idea. Maybe no one had told him the story of those first few chaotic months because they didn’t want to give him any ideas. 

I shook my head angrily. Now I was getting frightened again. And I couldn’t afford to. It was unlikely that Kal-El would try anything; I’d realized that as my mind grew clearer. Everyone at the Metropolis base knew I’d gone off with him alone. And Kal-El, although he never spoke of it, surely must know that he was on lifelong probation. We had kryptonite and we weren’t afraid to use it. Reminded, I patted my jeans pocket for the small lump of meteor rock. In a lead bag right now, to be sure, but I had it available. Of course, if Kal-El knew about it, and if he ever wanted to, he could take it away from me faster than I could blink. 

Nevertheless, having it gave me a sense of security. I’d vowed never to be without a weapon again. And this was my only possible weapon against a Kryptonian. 

Kal-El broke my train of thought. “OK. Let’s head out US-54 to Kingman.” He folded the map closed and put it back in his pocket. Turning to me with that hesitant half-smile again, he asked, “Ready to open the door?”

I nodded. He reached for the door handle at the same time as I, and our gloved hands touched briefly. Both of us drew back. 

“After you,” I gestured.

“Uh, actually, why don’t I get the packs and you open the door?” he stammered. Before I could say anything he was bending to the floor and picking up his heavy pack, arranging one strap on his right shoulder. Then he moved closer to me (ignoring my cautious few steps away from him) and picked up my pack, putting his left arm through the shoulder strap. Looking at that, my back rebelled at the thought of carrying those weights in such an off-center position. 

Kal-El, of course, had no problem. He nodded at me politely. He stood between me and the hall back to the base. I sighed and opened the door to the outside.

As ever, the cold hit me like a physical blow. My nasal passages dried out immediately. I resisted the urge to take a deep breath, knowing it would leave me coughing. I pulled my scarf tighter around my lower face. Kal-El followed me out the door and again, I left him plenty of space. 

He just stood. Both of us were silent for a minute, then he asked, “OK?” His voice was again low and gentle. I’d made it pretty obvious that I didn’t want to be around him. Both of us knew it. And both of us knew we had to work together to do the job that Lex had given us. Aside from refusing, which was tantamount to resigning – and really, where else did I have to go? What else could I do? – there was no alternative. 

This time he didn’t step closer to me. Instead, he just waited while I argued with the primitive part of myself. Finally winning, I slowly neared him. Despite my intellectual knowledge, once again I couldn’t help my racing heart and quick breathing. I knew that Kal-El detected those signs of fear, but he said nothing, just stood silently. 

Out of nowhere came the thought that Kal-El hadn’t been sarcastic all morning. He hadn’t called me Martha Kent. He hadn’t needled me, or teased me, or baited me. He’d been very quiet, and soothing. He’d also been very cautious in his moves around me, ever since I snapped at him about moving faster than I could see. Maybe he was trying to be diplomatic. 

Of course, I told myself, all he had to do was tone down his behavior. He didn’t have to overcome the paralyzing fear like I did. He didn’t have to put himself – literally – in the hands of an alien - an alien of a murderous race. He was invulnerable. Nothing could hurt him. I was working harder than he was. Why had I agreed to this crazy scheme again? My thoughts ran in a circle. Because I said I’d do it. And where else did I have to go? I sighed. 

I forced myself to take that final step. He could grab me now. I shook. I stopped. I couldn’t make myself get any closer. I was too close already. He was going to grab me, make me prisoner…

“All set?” Kal-El asked, deliberately cheerful. His voice shook me from my foreboding. I could do this. I was Martha Clark. I was bold and defiant. I had kryptonite. I wasn’t helpless. 

“OK,” I said finally. I was near enough him that he could lean over and pick me up. He scooped me up easily, supporting me with one arm below my legs, one arm behind my back. I looked up and caught him looking at me with….was it tenderness? Our eyes met and he jerked his gaze away. 

“Could you please put your head closer to my chest?” he asked. Only politeness was in his tone. He must have picked up on my indignant gasp, because he quickly explained, “The closer in you are, the easier it is to extend my aura, and the faster we can move.” 

Well, if that mean less Kryptonian-human contact time, I was all for it. I leaned my head onto his chest, wriggling just a little in his arms as we jointly adjusted my position. Even through my hat and his coat, I could hear (and feel) his heartbeat, a strong ba-dump, ba-dump almost reassuring in its regularity. 

“Last check,” Kal-El said. “Are you OK?”

No. I wasn’t OK. I was voluntarily entrusting myself to a Kryptonian. To a member of a race who couldn’t be trusted. And we were going off alone together, with no one to help me, no other human to talk to. 

I choked out the words. “I’m OK.”

He nodded his head, realized I couldn’t see it with my face turned to his chest. “Let’s go, then.” 

I closed my eyes. His heartbeat accelerated. The steady one-beat-per-second pace I’d been hearing suddenly became a regular purr, a noise like a motor. I could hear a whooshing noise as well. Strangely enough, I felt no wind. Despite the cold weather, I was warm. And safe, my traitorous mind added. 

Where did that come from? I wondered. No one was safe around a Kryptonian. 

Kal-El’s heart slowed again and the whooshing noise stopped. I wished I could check my watch. I thought the whole episode had taken thirty seconds - or less. 

I opened my eyes cautiously as Kal-El’s arms moved to set me on the ground. I looked around. We were in what I would have called a middle-class neighborhood of single-family homes. Lawns would have been mowed, shrubs trimmed, cars neatly parked in garages. Now, branches from the dead trees littered the once-pristine street and yards. Many of the houses had broken windows. The dull dry grass crunched underfoot. 

We were far from our base in Metropolis. In that instant, I understood in my gut the Kryptonian power. How could humans fight against something that could travel a hundred miles in seconds? 

Kal-El turned his head, scanning the neighborhood. There was an intent expression on his face. 

“What?” I asked. 

“I can hear heartbeats,” he said absently. “I think they’re over that way.” He pointed down to the corner, and began walking. Automatically I followed him. As he reached the corner, he cocked his head again, and confidently turned right. He stopped in mid-block, at a Craftsman-style bungalow with a big front porch. 

The upholstered porch furniture was amazingly intact. The windows had been boarded up and to me the house looked as deserted as all the others on the lonely block. 

“There are people inside,” Kal-El said confidently. He began to stride up the front walk.

The gunshot caught us both by surprise. I saw goosedown drift out of the hole that the bullet made in Kal-El’s jacket. Whoever was firing was a good shot. If Kal-El had been human, he’d have been dead with a bullet through the heart. 

Kal-El stopped walking. He thumbed the hole in his coat. He squinted. “Looks like they’re very well armed,” he said. 

“Why didn’t you check that out first?” I snapped. 

Another gunshot boomed and I automatically flinched. When I looked up, I saw Kal-El contemptuously drop a bullet onto the ground. 

“We’re friends!” he shouted. “Don’t shoot!” 

Another crack of gunfire. I hadn’t taken my eyes off Kal-El since the last shot. Right before I heard the report, I saw his arm blur. Then, once again, he was dropping a bullet on the ground. 

“OK. I guess they’re not interested,” Kal-El muttered. “Martha?”

“Yes?” I said, startled that he’d said my name. 

Kal-El didn’t take his eyes off the house, but there was another blur. I saw our packs sitting on the sidewalk, Kal-El standing in front of them (and in front of me) like a guard. 

“Could you please get in my pack and take out two cans of soup?” he asked. “And one of those fliers from the front pocket?”

“OK.” Now was not the time to argue. I took off my gloves and shoved them into my pockets. I wrestled with the fastenings and zippers of his pack, finally managing to get it open. Kal-El hadn’t been kidding – there was a pantry’s-worth of canned goods in there. I unzipped the front pocket and there were the fliers I’d come to know so well on my trip to the East Coast – the ones that began _Come To Metropolis – Take Earth Back!_

Two more shots rang out while I dug in Kal-El’s pack. This time the shots were close together. Kal-El caught both bullets. There was a momentary silence while I closed up his pack, my fingers clumsy in the cold. 

“Set them down,” Kal-El said, referring to the two Campbell’s Soup cans I held. Cream of Mushroom and Cheddar Broccoli. I wondered how those had ever made it through the long famine. 

I carefully set down the cans, putting the flier underneath them. Just then, a barrage of shots rang from the house. The inhabitants must have pulled out their rapid-fire arsenal. I curled my lip in scorn. All they were doing was wasting ammunition. I hastily shoved my hands back into my gloves. 

“Martha?” Kal-El asked, his tone serious. 

“Yes?” I wanted to flinch from the gunfire. I couldn’t see Kal-El’s arms at all. They were one big blur. 

“They’re going to have to reload. As soon as they stop, I’m going to get our packs and pick you up and leave, OK?” 

I could hardly hear him. But this was no place to hang around. “OK.”

And with that, there was a momentary break in the gunfire. And I heard the whooshing and saw the world pass by in a blur. 

Kal-El set me down. It had only been a few seconds he’d held me this time. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” I felt shaky with adrenaline and reaction. “I’m fine,” I repeated. 

We were in a similar neighborhood, but I knew we must be miles away from Kingman. I walked away a few steps. “Not a very nice welcome.” 

Kal-El’s face twisted in a sardonic smile. “Not the worst welcome I’ve had,” he said. He squeezed his hands together. Opening them, I saw he held an irregular lump of gray metal. 

I wasn’t going to respond to that. If he was referring to the way we had put kryptonite handcuffs on him, he should know that it was for our own safety. 

He sighed. “I got a lot of this when I was traveling with Chloe. People aren’t very trusting anymore. The Golden Rule has now become, “Do unto others before they do unto you.” He turned pensive. “Didn’t you see this on your trip out East?”

“Well, no, actually. Bruce had teams that did the initial contacts….he and Lex felt that I was better suited for explaining, negotiating, you know, once people got together.” 

Kal-El shrugged. “You were lucky.” 

I felt a tinge of anger. “I’ve seen a lot of death and destruction.” 

Kal-El looked at me curiously. “Yes,” he said finally. “I guess you have.” We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment. He looked away, kneading the metal in his hands absently. I stared at the sight of lead being molded like putty. He caught my wide-eyed expression and hastily shoved the lump into the pocket of his parka. 

Then he gestured. “The next report is over in Medicine Lodge.

“That’s a fair distance away.” Why did I say that? Delaying action, I realized. 

“Only about sixty-five miles.” 

Of course. We’d just traveled about fifty miles in a few seconds. Distance meant nothing to Kryptonians. Whereas, now, for us, sixty-five miles was a four-day trek. Distance held its own tyranny again. 

Kal-El broke into my thoughts. “Are you ready?” 

“Yes.”

Once again I forced myself to advance to him. Once again, Kal-El gathered me up. And once again, I heard the whoosh and saw the blur, felt Kal-El’s heart speed into that inhuman vibration. 

He repeated the listening pose and led us to a squat three-story brick apartment building. 

“Please do the X-ray thing first this time,” I said sarcastically. 

“Yeah, that would be a good idea,” Kal-El said absently, not responding to my dig. Based on his squinty look, I guessed he was already doing that. 

“Second floor, this side,” he muttered. “Older couple. Some kids.” He strode confidently to the outer door, not in the least bothered by carrying two packs. He jiggled at the door and it opened. 

“Did you just break that?”

“It was unlocked,” Kal-El assured me. At my disbelieving expression, he said, “Really!” 

OK, a moot point now. 

He led me down a twilight hallway. Some light diffused in from a window at the end of the hall, but like all sunlight since the Kryptonians had dampened our sun (or at least changed the Earth’s absorption of sunlight), that light was gray and dim. Kal-El swore that his cousin had corrected the problem but I hadn’t seen improvement yet. 

He set down the packs and knocked at a door near the end of the hall. I was surprised when the door opened to the limits of a chain. The person inside warily said, “Yes?”

Kal-El gestured to me. Thanks a lot. I scrambled for words, then blurted out, “Hello. We’re from Metropolis and we’d like to talk with you about things that have happened there.” Could that be any more lame, I thought. 

“What?” Still distrust in the voice, but mixed with a little curiosity. 

Go for it. “The Kryptonians are dead –“ well, most of them, anyway, “Earth belongs to the humans again, the climate will be going back to normal, and we’re trying to get people to come to Metropolis join with us in the rebuilding.” 

The door closed. I looked at Kal-El, nonplussed. 

Before he could say anything the door opened. A balding, middle-aged man said, “Hello!” His beaming smile was infectious and I found myself smiling back. 

“Come in, come in,” the man said, giving an impression of bustling even when he stood still. He gestured us in. Kal-El made a slight motion, indicating that I should go first. I hesitated just a moment, the memory of gunfire at our last stop making me a little cautious. As if Kal-El read my thoughts, he nodded at me – just a bit, not enough to be noticed by our host, who had turned and was heading into the room.

“I’m Bernie Klein,” our greeter said. “We don’t see a lot of people around here….” The tone made it a question.

“Martha Clark,” I said, ignoring his statement and extending my hand. 

“Clark Kent,” Kal-El said, copying me. 

“A lot of Clarks there,” Klein said briskly as he shook our hands in turn. 

Kal-El and I locked gazes momentarily. “Just a coincidence,” I said. Kal-El said nothing. I could feel him restraining himself. 

“Mr. Klein,” Kal-El began, “we’re glad to see you. I think this is the only house in Medicine Lodge with electrical power?” 

“Yes!” Klein said, smiling. “Call me Bernie, please.” We nodded as he started talking. “You’re probably wondering how we do it?” Without giving us a chance to answer, he went on. “We started with a multi-fuel generator, and we scavenged the city for burnables. But then I was able to set up our solar panels, even though their performance is degraded in this climate, and – did you notice the wind turbines?” He seemed proud. 

Actually, I hadn’t noticed the wind turbines – traveling with Kal-El, although quick, didn’t allow much time for sight-seeing. 

“Yes,” Kal-El said, irritating me. We set down our packs, and Kal-el stretched. There was a note of wonder in his voice as he asked Klein, “You got those going?”

“Why, yes,” the older man replied. He seemed pleased that someone had recognized his achievements. A tinge of familiarity with his type whispered at me – this was a techno-geek. Scorned, laughed at in pre-Invasion times, now sadly needed and hard to find. 

“There were a few fabricating issues, but once we got the machine tools in the basement all set up, no problem! We did have a little trouble getting the vanes just right….” He babbled on. This was a man who knew his stuff, all right. 

Kal-El and I shared a look. It was curious – this was the first time we’d been right on the same page, all together, two minds with a single thought. This man would be a great asset to the team in Metropolis. 

“Bernie!” A scolding voice caught our attention. A woman advanced from the door which presumably led into a kitchen. “We have guests! You haven’t offered them tea!” Her alert bearing and the fact that her right hand stayed hidden in the pocket of her apron made me suspect that she wasn’t as harmless as she’d like to portray herself. I saw Kal-El squint slightly and I wished that we’d set up some sort of code where he could warn me of weapons or other dangers. It was a safe bet that the woman had a gun in her pocket.

“Gloria Tanner,” she said, coming to us. “You’re from Metropolis?”

We introduced ourselves and I gave what I’d come to think of as the standard speech. Zod is overthrown, the world belongs to the humans, come to Metropolis base for the renaissance, blah blah blah. Bernie shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. 

Gloria looked uncertain. She plastered on a fake smile. She needed work at that – if she’d been a Metropolis lawyer like I was, she’d have been a much better dissembler. 

“You just sit yourselves down there, and we’ll get you some tea,” she said. “You’ll join us for tea, won’t you?” 

Without waiting for a reply, she grabbed Bernie Klein by the arm and marched him through the door, out of our sight. 

Kal-El got that squinty look again. 

“What?” I couldn’t help asking. 

“She’s yelling at Bernie,” he muttered, “telling him he wasn’t supposed to open the door to anyone….Now she’s going in another room….There’s a man with a shotgun coming into the kitchen….She’s putting the kettle on….Bernie’s saying that we’re inside now…..neither of them are listening to him…oh! There’s five kids in the next room over!....Gloria just went in and told the kids to stay quiet….looks like the guy with the shotgun is going to stay in the kitchen…..try not to annoy Bernie or Gloria too much.” 

Kal-El said that last with just a tinge of sarcasm and I flushed. “Well, if it comes to it, I’m sure you’ll protect me,” I replied, just as sarcastically. 

The needling failed when he gazed at me with his full attention. “Yes, I would.” No irony or sarcasm at all in the words – just a plain statement of fact. I flushed again. I hated him. I hated when he treated me like his mother. I hated him when he used his Kryptonian powers. I hated him when he talked about his powers. I hated him when he wouldn’t fight back. 

Gloria came back in, followed by Bernie, and carrying an actual tray with teapot and teacups on it. Kal-El stood as she entered the room and I belatedly followed. We sat, and she poured. 

“I’m sorry I don’t have sugar or lemon,” Gloria said. 

“I understand,” I said, and I did. Sometimes, the little things that were missing made my current situation hardest to bear. 

“Ms Tanner,” I began, “I know that you must be concerned about us…” I went into a longer explanation. “Please, take these as our gift and an expression of goodwill.” I motioned to Kal-El and he got the hint, rummaging in his pack and pulling out some cans of food. 

Despite their good situation – theirs was only the third home I’d come across in the last two months that actually had electricity, heat, and light – both Bernie’s and Gloria’s eyes widened at the sight of food. For my part, I was glad to see that Kal-El was dumping the canned beets. I hated beets. 

Of course, in the past three years, I’d eaten a lot of things I hated and had been grateful to have something to eat. 

“That is very generous of you, Ms Clark,” Gloria replied. She seemed to come to a decision. “Please, wait here.” She got up and headed back to the kitchen, taking the canned goods with her.

Kal-El took the opportunity to talk with Bernie. “Doctor Klein – I’m assuming you are a doctor – “

“Oh yes,” Bernie began. “I started with an interest in neurology and then I got into making prosthetics and motion aids for the stroke-impaired and spinal cord-injured. Then I had to get my engineering degree to work on the manufacturing of the prosthetics.” He looked a little rueful. “Of course, in the last few years, I’ve had a rather rushed course in hydroponic gardening, greenhouse building, and basic electrical engineering.” He gestured around the room. “There are still plenty of electrical supplies at the hardware stores in town, you know. All you have to do is put them together and get a power supply.” 

He made it sound so simple. It probably was, for him. It reminded me how my car mechanic used to say: “Everything’s simple when you have all the tools and you know what you’re doing.” 

Bernie continued to ramble on. “In fact, I was kind of surprised that you found us. I thought our insulation was good enough – “ he gestured at the boarded-up windows. Despite the electric lights, the room had that gloominess that came with being totally enclosed. “I didn’t think we leaked light or heat?” 

Kal-El and I looked at each other again. Neither of us wanted to admit that it was Kryptonian hearing that had detected heartbeats. 

“We did pick up a slight heat signature from the satellites,” I lied. “And of course, once we got in town, the wind turbines were a clue that someone was here.” 

“You still have satellites?” Bernie leaned forward in excitement. 

Whatever he was going to say next was swallowed up by Gloria’s return. My mouth watered at the sight of what she held on her tray this time. 

A tomato. A glorious, ripe, red-orange, juicy tomato. One little piece of vine was still attached. I automatically swallowed. I flashed a glance at Kal-El – he was doing the same. 

Gloria sat down and began delicately carving the tomato, putting slices on tiny plates. Dead silence accompanied her almost surgical dissection. She gave Kal-El and myself each a plate, then did the same for herself and Bernie. 

The four of us gave proper respect, remaining silent as we all slowly chewed and ate. The flavor explosion, the mix of tight skin and juicy pulp, the tiny seeds – it was an almost orgasmic experience. I hadn’t had a fresh tomato in three years. I almost cried as I ate it. 

“We’d like to have you all at Metropolis Base,” I said at the end. “If you want to be around more people….”

Gloria looked wistful. Bernie looked interested. 

“We can arrange transport. We need people like you. If there are any kids….” I knew there were kids, thanks to Kal-El looking, but how could I explain that? “...there’s a school for them. We’re back on a money economy and I can guarantee that you’d be well-paid.” I leaned forward. “We could really use your help.”

I almost had them when Kal-El broke in. 

“They do work with a Kryptonian, you know.”

The _idiot >/i>. Didn’t he know when to shut up? I could see Gloria’s gaze shuttering, and Bernie’s walls going up. _

“A Kryptonian?” Bernie asked dubiously. 

“He helped them overthrow General Zod.” The big oaf just wouldn’t be quiet. “He’s on their side.”

Gloria raised her eyebrows skeptically. Bernie, with what I suspected was an intractable curiosity, started asking questions. 

“Really? What exactly happened there? Were you there?”

Kal-El almost shuffled. “Um, yes. I was there. Um, Lex Luthor and a bunch of Resistance fighters went up to the Arctic, where Zod had his, um, lair. There were actually two Kryptonians on the human side, a man and a woman. The woman died during the attack, but she and Luthor’s team were able to defeat Zod and Zod’s henchmen.” Kal-El swallowed convulsively. “It was a hard-fought thing, but we won in the end.” 

I thought about mocking Kal-El later for actually using the word “henchmen”, but at his latter words I decided against that. I hadn’t been there, after all. Lex had figured that a non-meta, ordinary human was too vulnerable to go up against the Kryptonians, and he was right. 

Gloria nodded solemnly. “I’d heard that Zod was dead…you know how rumors go around….but you were actually there?”

Kal-El bobbed his head. “I was there.”

Bernie looked fascinated. “This is very interesting. Clark, did you happen to know what the Kryptonians did to change the Earth’s climate?”

Kal-El got shifty-eyed. “No, not really. It was something to do with their technology – the woman Kryptonian on the human side reversed the process, whatever it was. She said, before she died, that the Earth’s climate should be coming back to normal.”

“Hasn’t yet,” I muttered.

“It takes time,” Kal-El muttered back. The byplay was not lost on Gloria. 

“So, Clark,” she said, businesslike, “you know this Kryptonian?” Her tone made it as if she was asking, _You know this dangerous rattlesnake?_

“Um, yes,” Kal-El said. Jeez, he was such a bad liar. Even Bernie was picking up that something was off. “He’s a good guy. You don’t have to worry about him.”

“What do you think, Martha?” Gloria turned her gimlet eye on me. Suddenly I understood why this woman had survived the genocide. Her outward softness concealed an inner core of steel. I had been like that once, before… before I had been broken. Now I welded my broken core together with white-hot anger and pretended I was still strong. 

“Well….” I was reluctant. “Um….he’s been working there for about three months. I haven’t really seen him all that much, just a few days.”

Gloria picked up on my evasiveness. “More specific?” 

“He, uh, hasn’t hurt anybody all the time I’ve known him,” I said. Then, the words dragging out of me, the words I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “but he is a Kryptonian.” I managed to shut my mouth before I went on, I don’t think we can trust him. It didn’t matter. Gloria and Bernie understood damning with faint praise. And they understood what “Kryptonian” meant. It meant death, hecatombs, corpses beyond Stalinist dreams. 

“It’s OK!” Kal-El exclaimed, trying to salvage something. “He’s using his powers for good! He’s trying to help Earth people!” He gave me a sarcastic look. “He’s a tame Kryptonian!” 

Gloria was polite. “We’ll take your offer under advisement.” We both knew that was an acceptable way of saying, _Not in a million years._ Bernie looked a little more interested – I had him pegged as the classic geek, lots of intelligence but no brains. If we had him alone, I had no doubt we could convince him to come to Metropolis, if only to study the “tame Kryptonian.” But Gloria was a tougher audience. She mouthed social platitudes as she maneuvered us out the door and onto the street, very smoothly, very professionally. We’d been thrown out – nicely. But still thrown out, given the heave-ho, the bum’s rush, bag and baggage. The door locked behind us with a final click.


End file.
